The End of Malfoy
by LiteratureDarling
Summary: Draco Malfoy's 6th year at Hogwarts is the worst year of his life. Not only does he have to help get Death Eaters into the castle and kill the only person who ever found good in him, but also Hermione Granger has thoroughly gotten under his skin. And it seems as if she is there to stay. HBP AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hello my darlings! So I currently have a Fremione fic going, but one of my dear friends requested I write a Dramione. And since I have always secretly shipped them in some part of my Harry Potter Loving Heart, I decided to just go with it. I hope you enjoy…I would love to hear from you!

**Disclaimer:** I like to think that JKR is on this sight somewhere, writing fanfiction to continue on the story…but I am not her, and I do not own HP.

**Chapter 1:**

The blonde Slytherin sat at the back of the DADA lecture; his head resting on the desk, his brain halfway between waking and sleeping. He was slightly annoyed by the constant scratching of the quill next to him, but he didn't say anything. After all, the entire reason Blaise was taking notes in the first place was at the request of Draco. He liked to know that he didn't miss anything important during his naps.

Professor Snape stood at the front of the class, winding down his lesson. During the entire class he purposefully avoided looking toward the back corner where the tired boy tried to get a small reprieve. For this, Draco was thankful. Of all the things Snape did to try and "help" him this year, letting him slide through his class was by far the most useful. Although he was still required to do the homework, for two hours every other school day he got to get some shut eye. The only negative part of this was the fact that his class was shared with all the sixth year Gryffindors. The sniveling little idiots somehow managed to exhort a higher level of superiority than most of his fellow house mates…and that was saying something. He had just given up on getting any more sleep when Blaise elbowed him the ribs.

"What the hell?" He mumbled angrily.

"Nott keeps staring at you, mate." He warned under his breath. Draco let out an exasperated sigh. Ever since The Dark Lord had given Draco his 'assignment', Nott had become a force to be reckoned with. They, along with a few other Slytherin's had gotten the Mark at the same time. However, due to his father's status, Draco quickly flew through the ranks while Nott was still only an errand boy. This seemed to get under his skin much more than it had bothered Crabbe or Goyle. Then again, for them to be upset would imply that they had more than a single digit number of brain cells. He begrudgingly tried to look more alert, not wanting to appear weak in front of Nott. Just at that moment Snape released the class. Draco, knowing he had a free period was in quite a rush to get out of the room. He had exactly one hour before potions so he had better make the most of it. Moving toward the doorway he ran smack dab into the back of the mudblood know-it-all. Damn Gryffindors! Granger wheeled on him, angrily picking up the book the jolt had forced her to drop.

"Watch where you're going, Malfoy!" She said, pushing past him to rejoin Potter and the Weasel who were waiting by the door.

"You're losing it, man!" Blaise said sympathetically. "You just let Granger yell at you and you didn't say one bloody thing." Draco fixed a smirk on his face, making sure that his voice displayed the correct amount of lack of interest and disdain.

"I pick my battles carefully." He said simply, heading in the general direction of the room of requirement. "For example, if I fought with the mudblood every time she got her granny panties in a bundle, my choice words would lose their effect." In all reality he was just too tired. And although he had to watch out for Potter, in case he started to suspect anything, picking fights was a waste of his already stretched time. They had reached the room of requirement then. Draco sent Blaise off, leaving him with just Crabbe and Goyle. Although Blaise was by far the most tolerable of the self-obsessed prats that he was forced to be around, he hadn't yet gotten the mark. Even though the Zabini family were trusted in the Death Eater ranks, the fact that Blaise had refused made Draco wary of his company. He didn't doubt his commitment to the Dark Lord, but he didn't want to have any unnecessary risks.

"Alright boys, you know the drill." Draco said seriously, once the large double doors had appeared before him. "You drop the beaker if anyone comes snooping. When the hours nearly up knock twice on the wall." The idiots both nodded. Without looking back he walked through the doors and into his own personal hell.

Closing the door behind him, he walked between the stacks of useless objects until he reached the cabinet. Today he was going to try and send something through for the first time. He pulled out an apple that he had put in his bag at lunch. The green skin seemed a sickly color in the poor lighting of the seemingly endless room. Draco wondered if he, himself looked sickly in this light. Or any light for that matter. He had almost given up looking in mirrors at this point. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to have become permanent residents, always making it appear he as if he were just getting over two black eyes. He was sure that if he got more than an hour or two of sleep a night, it might help. But, if he wasn't working on this damned cabinet he was thinking of…the other task. The task that he couldn't even let himself think. Merlin, he was going soft. In the pale light he roughly shoved up the sleeve of his white shirt to display the ink that curled around his forearm. The dark mark seemed to taunt him, as if the skull were laughing at his misfortune. But it wasn't misfortune. He chided himself. It was an honor. Yes, an honor. The words of his father seemed to spin in his mind. Circling like a wasp around his head. On the night that the Dark Lord had given Draco his instructions, his father had pulled him aside. He could still feel the pain of his father's icy fingers digging into his arm.

"You must not fail him Draco. You must not fail me." He father had hissed, tightening the grip on Draco's arm, drawing blood from the half-moon lines of his fingernails. "I know you are an imbecilic child, but if for once in your life, Draco, you will not embarrass your family name. You will accomplish this. And you will make the Dark Lord proud." He had released him them, turning to go back to his master's side. Draco had stood, back against the stone of the dungeons in Malfoy Manor, for what seemed like years. Feeling the droplets of blood ooze from his arm and onto the floor. Marking the spot where his life changed forever.

Draco was about to place the apple in the vanishing cabinet, thrusting all his self-pitying thoughts from his brain when a crash echoed in the hall. Someone was coming. Draco quickly threw the cover of the cabinet, standing out of sight from the door, heart pounding, until the three short knocks on the door told him it was safe. He exited the room, having wasted too much time to get any real work on it done. Crabbe stood in the hallway, broken glass at his feet.

"Well?" Draco said angrily. Crabbe seemed to flounder for words, the worthless git. Finally he managed to find enough sense to form a coherent sentence.

"The mudblood was watching me. She looked suspicious." Draco swore loudly. That Granger was becoming a problem. He would have to find a way to make sure neither her nor any of the other members of the golden trio got too suspicious of his actions. But for now, it was nearly time for double potions. With Gryffindor. Why they had so many classes together was beyond him. It seemed that old bat Dumbledore was trying to make his every waking moment more of a hell than the Dark Lord could. He sighed, pulling on his school robes and heading toward the dungeons. With his luck he would probably run into Granger again. Maybe this time he'd let her have it, Merlin knows she needed to be taught a lesson. He smirked as he calmed his tormented mind with thoughts of all the ways he could ruin Hermione Granger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Hey dearies, so I've found this story far more fun to write than I thought it would be! I hope you are enjoying it so far! Just to let you know, I will most likely be updating about once a week…unless college busyness catches up with me. I will however do everything in my power no to go more than two weeks without updating…I hope that is reasonable. Let me know what you think of it so far…you know, if you're into that sort of thing.

**Disclaimer**: It's 2AM so I'm fresh out of witty comments….*insert joke about dinosaur here* *somehow relate not owning Harry Potter to previously stated joke here*.

**Chapter 2:**

Life for Draco Malfoy seemed to stretch into one endless day. Only broken up by the periods of darkness when the rest of the castle was asleep. Draco, having given up on the cabinet when the sun was just peaking over the Astronomy Tower, lay in his bed. The green curtains were shut around him so that no light could get through, but still he felt the morning come. A change in the air as he heard the shuffle of feet as his roommates went through their morning routines. It was a Saturday, which meant that he could allow himself a few minutes of quiet before beginning on the mountain of homework that had begun to pile up. He considered telling Goyle to bring him breakfast, but at the thought of food his stomach clenched into a fit of nausea. Lately he had lost his appetite completely. In all honesty, it wasn't that he wasn't hungry but that he couldn't handle being in the great hall. Or rather who was in the great hall. Having to eat when the very man he was commissioned to…to…kill sat only a few meters away was rather off putting. He found himself glancing at the headmaster often. Watching the old man as he laughed at some unheard joke, his eyes sparkling behind the half-moon spectacles that always seemed to slipping off his nose. The worst moments were when Dumbledore would make eye contact him Draco. He would give him a reassuring smile as if he knew exactly what Draco had to do. As if he was giving him permission.

As much as he hated to admit it, even in the safety of his mind in an empty dorm, he didn't want to murder him. Over all the years, Dumbledore had seemed to hold onto this idea that Draco had some tendril of good deep down in him. He would smile at him in the halls, and the year he had to spend Christmas at Hogwarts, he received the first Christmas present he had gotten in years. Although the gift was a simple quill. Costing a few sickles at most, and nothing he would be caught dead using, the little note attached to the parcel had haunted Draco for all this time. The scrap of parchment, written in the headmaster's curly script, was still resting in the bottom of his trunk...attached to a still unused quill.

_**To Mr. Malfoy,**_

_**A good reminder that if we do not like where a**_

_**story is headed, all we must do is rewrite the ending.**_

Draco cursed the professor for being such an insufferably good man. He cursed the school, for having hidden rooms with vanishing cabinets. He cursed Potter and the blood traitor Weasley for their existence. He cursed Granger for her persistent pride and knowledge. He cursed her for the way that she managed to somehow always have the last word, no matter how hard he tried. He laid there, cursing every single thing that had ever wronged him, until he heard the heavy sound of footsteps on the stairs of the boys returning from breakfast. He then pulled the curtains back and made sure his face displayed the right expression before the door creaked open. Blaise entered, holding an envelope.

"This came for you." He said simply, eyeing the Malfoy crest on the seal of the letter. Draco groaned internally, nodding his thanks and taking the letter from Blaise's outstretched hand. It had been nearly a month since the last letter from his father. Instead of opening it there, he grabbed his bag of books and headed off for somewhere quiet to read what was sure to be an interesting letter.

After a bit of wandering, he ended up at the library. It was nearly nine thirty on a Saturday morning. He knew the place would be deserted. Madam Pince seemed to be the only soul in the whole place. She didn't even nod as he entered and headed for the back. There, amongst the towering walls of books, he found a table. It was completely obscured from view so no prying eyes would see him. Furthermore, it was in the "Advanced Potions" section, and as there were only ten people in his advanced potions class, he figured that the chances of one of them needing a book at that particular moment were slim to none.

He settled into the chair and with the same speed one might tear off a bandage, opened the letter. He let out a sigh of relief as he recognized his mother's flowery script.

_Draco,_

_I am writing this to inquire on your progress with the work you have been doing. Everyone is quite…anxious for it to be complete. Your father especially. I do encourage you to spend as much time as possible with this project, as failure would result in consequences of an extreme nature. My darling, I am sorry to tell you that your father is quite enraged over your lack of progress. He has heard whispers of possibly assigning the tasks to someone 'more capable'. I have faith in you, and I am sure that it will be complete as soon as possible. Take heart in knowing that glory awaits you if you succeed. Also, we will be have a… shall we say…special guest over Christmas break. So please do everything in your power to have made showable progress by that point._

_Your mother._

Draco leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He let out a soft groan. Everything was happening so fast. He had made little to no headway on the cabinet at the Dark Lord himself was coming to speak to Draco on his progress. In anger he punched the wood paneled wall. A sickening crack sound through his hand. Shooting pain raced through his knuckles and up through his arm. "Damn!" He said, a little too loud for a library. He held his hand for a moment, before risking a glance at it. His knuckles were red and already beginning to swell. He flexed his hand, grimacing in pain as he did. He felt two maybe three small fractures.

"Malfoy?" A voice asked from his right. He turned to find that damned mudblood staring at him, wide eyed. "Are you alright?" She asked, taking a tentative step forward. Draco did his best to sneer, but with the pain he wasn't sure how well he pulled it off.

"I'm fine Granger." He snapped. Her eyebrows raised, as she reached him. Slowly, as if approaching a dangerous animal she reached out. With her left hand she gently pulled his injured hand toward her. He was in too much shock over her boldness to do anything but stare. She waved her wand and muttered a spell. Instantly an extreme cold feeling went through his entire body, as if he had been submerged in a bath filled with ice.

"What the hell, Granger?" He said, pulling his hand back as if she had bit him. "How dare you touch me! Who knows what mudblood germs you've contaminated me with?" He said, shaking his hand roughly. To his amazement it had been completely healed. Damn her! Damn her to hell! She glared at him angrily.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I just assumed that someone who was idiotic enough to punch a wall like a five year old, wasn't smart enough to heal himself. I was simply doing my duty as a prefect! You know what, next time I'll just let you be." She huffed angrily. For a single second, one tiny second, Draco felt thankful to her. He did know basic healing spells, but nothing that would repair the fractures. As soon as that emotion came, he crushed it with a smirk.

"Please Granger, you just can't pass up an excuse to show off. Anyway, what are you doing here? Following me now are you?" His tone was mocking, but deep down he was worried that she was. What if she somehow knew about his tasks? No, he was just paranoid. The bookworm spent all her time in the library.

"You wish." She replied, "I was simply getting a book from this section when I stumbled upon your temper tantrum. It's not my fault I can't help but heal a wounded child." She said with a nearly Slytherin level of snark. She held up the book which she had gotten off the shelf, waving it in his face as proof. _Potions and Pendulums: A guide to proper cook time of advanced stage medical potions. _Draco raised an eyebrow at her book choice. They had been studying a few complex healing potions in their class. Was the brightest witch of their age, having trouble? His smirk only grew.

"You know Granger," He said, trying to retrieve some of the pride he felt she had stripped him of. "If you're struggling in potions I could always help you. I mean, after all, we all know I've been getting higher marks than you this year." Her face turned a dark shade of red. What luck that he happened to have noticed that she had not done as well as him with the last potions exam. From her reaction she knew this as well.

"Thank you for your kind off Malfoy, but I'm afraid that I still have standards. Now if you excuse me, I can only spend so much time around unintelligent prats before my head starts to hurt." She turned on her heel and left him there. Still smirking, the letter completely forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Hello lovelies! So I thought I would make a slight service announcement. This story will be a romantic one. I pinky promise you. But I am not one to rush to the romance before the relationship has been set. So be slightly patient as not every chapter will have 'Dramione' moments in it. However, I would love to hear from you if you have any questions, comments, or declarations of love.

**Disclaimer:** Apparently Pinocchio was all a lie, because I have wished on stars every night to own Harry Potter and no blue (or any other color for that matter) fairy has come to grant me my wish.

**Chapter 3:**

Draco dreamed of mudbloods. More specifically, Hermione Granger. His dream Granger's eyes were not the chocolate brown that glared at him in every class he had with those bastard Gryffindors, but onyx. Pure black that seemed to mock him as she laughed over him. He was quite a sniveling wanker in his dream. He could do nothing but lay, a crumpled heap on the floor, as dream Granger tormented him mercilessly. Her voice like nails on a chalkboard, raked across his mind. Razors disguised as words.

"_You thought you could win!" She said, in a whisper. Reminding him of his father. The way she lifted her wand with such flair, as if it pleased every inch of her to curse him. He cowered before her, shame filling him at the act. What felt like an eternity passed for Draco. The witch whispering 'Crucio' the way one might whisper a lover's name, every few moments. Allowing the agony to pass only enough for him to gasp one painful breath before beginning again. She stopped as suddenly as she had started. Tilting her head to examine him the way one might examine a cabbage before buying it. "You thought you could succeed." She mocked, her icy cold hand running down his cheek. Scratching lines of blood with her fingernails. "But look at you." She threw another curse at him, her midnight as twinkled as he howled in pain. "You are nothing but a child. A wretched child who cannot even fix a damned cabinet." Suddenly, his dream Granger shifted. Taking on the form of the Lucius Malfoy. "You are a disappointment." He said, slapping Draco across the face. He was shocked. Never had his father resorted to muggle ways of violence. "Don't you have anything to say? Speak you blood traitor!" Draco only let out a small whimper. Trying to force his swollen tongue to form words of apology. His father, with a sickening oblivion filling his eyes, lifted his wand to the level of Draco's heart. He resisted the urge to call for help. No one would hear him. He knew that. _

_Suddenly it was Granger standing before him again. Smiling down at him, the way she smiled at Potter or Weasley. He felt a tiny flicker of hope in his terror stricken heart, as he realized this Granger had brown eyes. For a moment he dared to dream that the torture he had endured might finally come to an end. "Funny, isn't it." She said with a high pitched laugh, "That in the end, it wasn't your cowardice or your lack of skill that killed you." She said calmly, as if reporting the weather. "But the little mudblood who you never thought could do you any harm." She winked at him, opening her mouth slowly and muttering the words he feared most in life. "Avada Kedavra!" Draco felt a cold swell over him like the night, pulling him into darkness._

Draco flung himself up into a sitting position, breathing heavily. Beside him, his Crabbe and Goyle slept on. Unaware of the torture that Draco had just endured. Everything in him wanted to march straight to the Gryffindor tower and rip that mudblood's throat out with his teeth. He forced himself to stay calm. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. He stood. Throwing on his clothes for the day. He didn't even bother to straighten his tie as he snuck out of the common room and through the halls of Hogwarts.

Once on the Astronomy tower, he let the mask of emotionlessness slide from his face. Looking out over the mountains that surrounded the school, he slid to the floor. Once there, he buried his face in his hands, letting the cold night air rush around him. It was all too much. The air seemed to coat his lungs, making it impossible for him to breathe. For one small moment Draco wondered if he could just give it all up. Leave the country and flee to Paris. He liked Paris. He sighed, not really even considering the idea. He was too far in. Waste deep in the Dark Lord's bidding. Perhaps if he finished this. If he just did what was asked of him, he would be allowed to live in peace. He laughed bitterly to himself, his voice echoing over the highly vaulted ceiling. There would never be peace. Not for him. If he gave up, turned himself in, and refused to help the Dark Lord he would die. Whether from rotting in Azcaban or at the hands of Death Eater, it didn't matter. Death would find him. And what if he completed his task. What if the war was won and a world of purebloods was born? Would it really be all that much better? Yes. Of course it would. Draco chastened himself for even allowing such blood traitor thoughts to enter into his mind. Isn't that what his father had called him in his dream? A blood traitor? No better than Weasel. He was suddenly cold. The night seeming to vast around him, as he realized those were the only options. Blood traitor…or…or…murder. He couldn't even think the damned word without shuddering. What kind of muggle loving pansy was he turning into? This was ridiculous. Draco stood, straightening his tie and robes. Running a hand through his hair to make sure it lay perfectly against his head, he smirked. He was Draco Malfoy. Slytherin. And he would be damned before he let as something as a silly nightmare shake his foundations and beliefs.

Draco Malfoy, stared out across the hills—watching the sun peak its golden head over the trees to reflect across the lake—planning the murder of Albus Dumbledore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Happy Spring Break! Well, at least it is for me. Which means that I get to spend one lovely week at home. I mean, I still have to read the entirety of _Sophia Petrovna_ and write an essay in German…BUT at least I am home. So, since I like avoiding responsibility, here is chapter 4. Let me know what you think…or don't. That's okay too…it's not like I find my personal gratification through online people who have never met me *smiles nervously*

**Disclaimer**: Oh the things I would do to Draco Malfoy if I owned him….but sadly I don't….

**Chapter 4:**

Weeks passed for Draco, the way a Christmas Eve passes for a young child, in slow lurches and unending seconds. Nothing seemed to be going right. Nothing. The first attempt he had made had only ended up nearly killing that Bell. He felt a bad for it. Honestly, he did. He wasn't really into the idea of senselessly killing people simply because they got in his way or gave him a funny look. He had-over time-rationalized killing the headmaster. There were a great number of reasons. However, hurting other people in the process wasn't part of his plan. He wanted a clean job. One fatality. Nothing more. But things never really work out the way one plans. And so, the incident with the necklace laid heavily upon Draco upon returning home for Christmas break.

The hogwarts express was packed with students. It seemed to be a premonition for the horribleness of the rest of his break. Some years there were only a handful of students, each getting their own compartment. But this year it seemed as if every bloody student decided it was time to go home. Draco was almost glad the prefects had a compartment to themselves. Even if it meant sitting with those goody two shoes.

As he fought his way toward the space, he happened to walk past a very engaged Weasley. He snorted, drawing the blonde's attention away from the blood traitor.

"Can I help you?" The girl asked, eyeing him up and down. She was an ugly girl, really. Not the type that Draco fancied. He liked girls who were pretty without trying...not this girl. Who's overly red lipstick was currently smeared all over Weasley's extremely flushed face.

"Just thought I'd warn you." Draco said casually, winking at the girl just to get a rise from her companion. "These Weasley's breed like cockroaches...unless you want to have a swarm of redheaded, poverty stricken, toddlers to take of, you should keep those legs firmly closed." She blushed, speechless. In an attempt to distract from the awkward turn of conversation she began fiddling with fhe edge of her blouse. She hasn't yet noticed that, in their snogging (if you could even call the tongue sucking they were doing 'snogging') the top few buttons had popped open. Weasley, on the other hand, had noticed. And was eyeing Draco with a clear warning in his eyes. He smiled at the girl, with his most heart melting smile.

"If, however, you do feel a need." He said in a seductive stage whisper "I'll be in the prefect's compartment." Her chubby, zit covered cheeks turned a deeper crimson as the meaning of his words hit her. He winked one last time before turning and walking again in the direction of the prefect's compartment. He heard the blood traitor sputtering in disbelief. He smiled, turning back one last time to wink. "Purple has always been my favorite color." He was of course referring to the bit of the bright purple bra that the Weasel had managed to uncover.

"Oh." Was all she managed to squeak before the Slyrherin was out of sight. Lost among the throng of students, all jockeying for a good spot.

* * *

By the time he had arrived at the compartment, the train had already begun to move. He was sure that it would be full, maybe even too full. When he pulled open the door he realized that it was completely empty except for one person. Hermione Granger. She hadn't noticed him yet. She was lost deep within the pages of some book. Unsure why, he watched her for a moment. She really did look far prettier when her eyebrows weren't pulled together in worry or her moth wasn't turned down in a frown. She looked almost, dare he say, attractive. Of course not to him. But he could understand why some of the blokes in their year watched her with cow eyed expressions. He weighed if it was better to sit with the mudblood or try to find Blaise. He decided, for the moment, that he would prefer to spend the trip without the watchful eyes of the other Slyrherin's. he was still worried that they would suspect it was he who cursed the necklace.

"You can come in, Ron. I'm not going to bar you from the compartment just because you can't see past some breasts and-" Granger looked up, realizing that it wasn't Weasley standing in the doorway. She sighed "I guess I can't bar you either." He smirked, before sitting across from her.

"I wasn't waiting for permission, Granger. I'm not the dog in this compartment." She narrowed her eyes at him, before releasing a long breath.

"Not in the mood, Malfoy." She said, rubbing her temple like she had a headache.

"Why? Can't take it when your boyfriend isn't here to protect you." She looked at him. Behind the anger a small bit of hurt smoldered in her eyes. Draco's smile widened. "Uh-oh. Is there trouble in paradise? Did Weasley finally catch on to what a drag you are?" Her fist clenched around the book she was holding.

"I will have you know that I am anything but a drag. If you remember I got asked to the Yule Ball. And I have boys tell me all the time how pretty and smart I am!"

"One mustn't tell lies. Lying is wrong." He said haughtily. She scoffed,

"I'm not lying Malfoy!"

"You weren't lying." He confirmed, "Those boys were." He let his comment hit her with full force before turning to stare out the window, a smirk plastered on his face. He noticed from the corner of his eye an angry tear roll down her cheek and splash onto the book page. Draco, at seeing the pain his goading had caused her, felt a twinge of regret in his stomach. Damn. That Bell incident had really turned him soft. He chided himself. Maybe he could ask to braid hair. Or talk about how dreamy Krum was last year...

The rest of the trip passed in uncomfortable silence. The girl fighting the urge to punch him. The boy fighting the urge to apologize. As the train pulled up to the platform Draco's eyes began to scan for his mother. To his horror, standing still as stone was his father. He shrunk back from the window, hoping his father wouldn't see him. The only reason his father would have ever made the trek through the muggle infested station, would be because he had heard of Draco's failure. He cursed under his breath, drawing the attention of Granger. He had hoped to break the news to him after having told him of all the progress he had made with the cabinet. He could now send inanimate objects through. But now that he knew, and Draco hadn't been the one to tell him, meant at least one severe beating. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. Dreading the weeks he would be forced to spend at home.

He was so wrapped up in thought, that he didn't notice the pitying expression on the girl's face. After seeing his reaction, she had glanced out the window to see the harsh death eater awaiting his son.

"Malfoy?" She said cautiously. Not sure exactly what to say.

"Not now, Granger." He said harshly, all regret for his pervious comment evaporating.

"I was just going to remind you." She continued, not faltering. "That it is recommended that all prefects report back to Hogwarts a week early, so that we may begin to plan the coming terms events." Draco vaguely remembered something being said of that nature during one of the meetings. A small flicker of hope sprung up in him. If he could get back to school a week early, under the pretense of working on the cabinet, then maybe he could escape having to be in the Dark Lord's presence for long. He eyed Granger suspiciously. She seemed almost kind to him. He didn't like it, it threw his world off balance a little.

"Unlike you, Granger. There is more to my life than school." He scoffed. She frowned slightly,

"I was just reminding you in case you forgot. Dumbledore said that he would open the floo network between Hogwarts and the Leaky Cauldron for any prefect wanting to return. As long as they owled him first." She stood then, pushing open the door into the flow of students. Draco stood behind her, waiting for he to exit the compartment. She turned toward him one final time, smiling for a brief moment. "Happy Christmas, Malfoy." He was stunned, so stunned that by the time he managed to sputter,

"Happy Christmas, Granger." She was already out the door and down the hall. He stood for a moment, taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders. He could do this. He was strong enough.

Without any more hesitation, as causing his father to wait would only be more trouble, he left the train. Walking with as much pride as he had left in him, over to where his torturer stood.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Hello loves! Two chapters in 24 hours! It was an absolutely lovely day so I opened up my window, poured myself some tea, and got some writing done. I hope you are enjoying this, as I am actually really enjoying writing this. Feel free to tell me what you think!

**Disclaimer:** I might own Harry Potter wall art, Harry Potter books (cookbook included), and Harry Potter costume items…but I don't own Harry Potter.

**Chapter 5:**

Traveling by floo had never been Draco's favorite pastime. He much preferred side along apparation than the dizzying tunnel effect that occurred when he would watch the different fire places rush past him. However, he swore that in the moment he flooed to Hogwarts an entire week early, that it was his favorite thing in the entire world. This was mostly due to the fact that his father had been extremely angry the entire two weeks he had been home. He had received four terrible punishments as well as several uses of the Cruciatus curse. One of those times only a few minutes before he had left.

"You imbecilic child." His father had hissed. "Do you not understand how much is at stake here?" He had cursed him then. Watching as Draco writhed. "If you do not wish to die a slow and painful death you will complete your task. And you will do it in a timely manner." After a ten more tortuous minutes in which a variety of pain and harm inducing spells were used, Draco had been allowed to floo to the Leaky Cauldron and from there to Hogwarts.

A simple glamour charm had hid all the damage that his trip home had done to his body. It did nothing to stop the pain that had settled over him like a heavy fog, but he could deal with that once he was alone in his room. The moment he stepped fluidly out into the headmaster's office, he was filled with warmth that did something to slightly ease the pain. As if being in a safe place was already removing some of the damage his parents had caused. Dumbledore smiled kindly at him from across the desk.

"Mister Malfoy, welcome back." He said, "I trust you had a…memorable holiday." He said, Draco nodded. "Good. There will be a prefect's meeting tomorrow after lunch. But other than that you may do as you like. There are very few students here this holiday and only one other prefect has returned. So this is a great opportunity to have some alone time." Dumbledore said, gesturing that he may leave. Right as Draco reached the door (doing his best not to limp), the old wizard spoke again. "You know, Draco. I have come to realize that when I have time alone to think, what I assume to be true has sometimes proven to be nothing but sugar masks on a rainy Sunday." Draco nodded, not quite sure the meaning of his words, but thoroughly unsettled by them.

* * *

Draco had never been at Hogwarts when it was empty. Not truly empty. He had been there once where there were only fifty or so students wandering the halls. But now, it was completely deserted. He heard footsteps on some distant stairway echoing across the stone but other than that it was completely silent. He hated it. He hated the way it made the castle seem ever larger, expanding into a place he no longer felt safe in. As if there were no more barriers between him and all the outside world. He stopped in the middle of a hallway, an epiphany striking him breathless. This is what it would feel like for all the other students when he brought the death eaters in. Would it feel as if the only safe place in the entire world was crumbling around them? Melting…like sugar masks. He suddenly understood what Dumbledore was saying and the realization seemed to crush a part of him. He would be the reason for the deaths. He would be the reason for the nightmare. He would be the reason for it all. He shuddered at the thought. At what price was he willing to save his own life? How many people's blood was he willing to have on his hands? One? One hundred? Who would it be? Who would those victims be? Dumbledore of course, he would die. What if it was that loon Lovegood or that kid Creevy. Was it fair to them to die for nothing? What if it was Granger? To his surprise the thought of the mudblood dying was slightly upsetting to him. Perhaps it had been because she had been kind to him on the train. Perhaps it was just because she had pretty eyes, which seemed to know what he was thinking. Perhaps it was just because she was a human being with a beating heart, who had done nothing wrong.

Draco was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the wearing off of the glamor charm or the fact that the very witch of his thoughts had just rounded the corner. The girl in question noticed him long before he noticed her. In fact, he didn't even realize he wasn't alone until she spoke.

"What on earth happened to you, Malfoy? Are you alright?" His head shot up in confusion. Not at the fact that she had spoken but that she had sounded genuinely concerned. It took him a moment to understand what she meant. By the time he did it was too late. She was staring with wide eyes at the razor thin cuts that covered most of his arms and torso (though those were hidden by his shirt.) There were also a large number of different aged bruises, some from curses and some from when his father had stunned him causing him to fall down two flights of stairs. This had occurred when Draco had not responded to the Dark Lord in a respectful enough way.

"I'm fine Granger." He said, hoping that by some stroke of luck she would learn to mind her own business.

"Like hell you are." She said, taking a step closer. "Come on. I'm taking you to Madam Pomfrey." He shook his head vehemently.. There was no way on earth that he would let that witch see him.

"No."

"Why ever not?" She said, slightly alarmed. "You are seriously injured." She was a bit frantic. Draco guessed he looked a little worse for wear.

"I'm fine. Really Granger. I just had a little run in…with a wall." He finished lamely. Some wall. "I really just need a lie down, and I know a few healing spells." He said, calmly. She crossed her arms.

"It is my duty as a prefect to help you, Malfoy. I must insist that you come to the Hospital." He frowned at her.

"I don't think you get it Granger." He hissed, "There is no way in hell that I am going to the bloody hospital. There is nothing in that damned mudblood brain of yours that you will be able to say to convince me otherwise. So save your breath." He walked away, stumbling slightly as he stepped on his swollen ankle wrong. She sighed heavily.

"Alright than. To the dungeons it is." She said, placing an arm around his waist. He shrunk away,

"What do you think you're doing, mudblood." He said, but there was really no venom in it. He was just too tired.

"What does it look like you idiot. I am fulfilling my prefect duties and helping you…again I might add." She walked him down the five flights of stairs, pausing every now and then to let him rest. Little did she know, but the Cruciatus Curse had left his lungs, as well as every other part of his body, sore. Each breath was a blade running down his throat. He stopped the whimper of pain that was clawing up from the deepest parts of him. No matter what else, he would not let Granger see him whimper. He still had to have some pride.

After an eternity and a half they reached the porthole to the Slytherin dorm.

"You'll have to say the password." She said. He frowned at her. "That is, unless you want me to treat your wounds on the stone floor. Your choice." He was stunned by her comment. In his mind, Granger was just going to drop him off at the door and leave him. Apparently she was planning on playing nurse and healing him. Not that he would complain. His knowledge of healing spells was rudimentary at best. With only a moment's deliberation, Draco decided that he might as well screw himself royally if he was going to screw himself at all.

"_Animarum medelam_" He said the phrase quickly, hoping that Granger wouldn't pick up on it. He led her into the common room. The green light streaming from the dim windows. He led her to the couch in the far corner of the room. Out of sight of the porthole, just in case any Slytherin's happened to be here. Though he highly doubted there would be. Draco then, much to Granger's embarrassment, removed his shirt to let her see the full extent of his father's wrath.

"Alright Granger. This stays between you and me, right?" Her eyes were wide as she took in the horror. She nodded once. Looking at him with pity. "Okay then." He said with a wink. "Patch me up."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Hello Dears. This is a shorter chapter, but I figured that I have spoiled you enough this week! And this is a big moment for them, so I decided to keep it short and sweet. As always, let me know if you have any suggestions, comments, or declarations of unrequited love.

**Disclaimer:** I would pay JKR my left arm and leg to own Harry Potter. But I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be a very inciting offer for her…so I don't own HP.

**Chapter 6:**

Granger screwed up her face in thought the way she did during her exams. Draco watched as her eyebrows pulled together, he could practically feel the tension rolling off her in waves.

"Granger. If you can't fix me it's no big deal. I've had worse." He said with a laugh. Her eyes shot to his, the brown clouded over with worry.

"I can try, but…but there's just so much. I don't even know where to begin." Draco laughed weakly, desiring nothing more than a long nap. Granger took a deep breath, "I would really rather Madam Pomfrey—"

"Shut it Granger. I'm not going to that old bat. You can either use your smarts or leave me alone." He snapped, his patience gone. She sighed, pulling out her wand.

"I'm making no promises that I won't hurt you worse. Most of what I know is theoretical at best. I mean the most we've ever—" Draco lifted his hand and placed it firmly over her mouth.

"Listen. I've been through hell. I really would like to sleep, but I would prefer not to get blood on my sheets. So if you could just stop being a know it all for like two minutes and use a first year level spell or hand me my wand to do it…that would be great." She nodded her head. "If I remove my hand will you continue your lecture?" She shook her head no, and he dropped his hand. After a moment of thought, she raised her wand

"_Tergeo_." She muttered, a cool sensation running over him as the blood was cleaned off. He personally would have probably used a Scouring charm, but he wasn't about to point that out. Once all the dried blood had been removed she looked him in the eye.

"This might not work, as I'm not sure how deep those wounds are." She said gesturing toward his chest and arms. "_Episkey_." A fire seemed to burn through his torso and out into his fingers. A hiss escaped Draco's lips as the fire turned to ice. Rushing over him, causing goose bumps to form over his newly healed flesh. Not until the pain subsided did he realize he had grabbed Granger's left hand and was squeezing it painfully.

"Sorry." He muttered, quickly releasing it. She smiled gently at him,

"If you thought that was bad, you're glad I didn't have any dittany. Apparently that feels even worse." Draco shuddered at the idea. Rocking back on her heals, she seemed to become nervous now that her job was done. "Umm…I'm just going to let you rest. I wish I could help with those bruises." She said, gesturing to the side of his face. "But I could try and look it up. I do remember reading about it in one of my books." He rolled his eyes.

"You don't need to. It's not like there's anyone really here." He said, yawning halfway through. She stood, backing slowly towards the porthole. When she was nearly out of sight she said,

"You know you should really tell someone…about this." not wanting to say what they both were thinking. "Dumbledore could help you. He could contact the Ministry or something." She looked a little hopeful at her suggestion, but Draco just shook his head.

"Don't you get it, Hermione? No one can help me. Not anymore. Not your precious Headmaster or your Potter. No one. It's time that you accepted, that for some of us, happy endings only lie in books." She turned a bright shade of pink. Stammering something unintelligible and backing the rest of the way out of the room. It took him a second to realize what had spooked her. He had said her name. Not 'Granger' or 'Mudblood' or 'Know-It-All', but 'Hermione.' He liked the way her name sounded on his lips…Hermione. He shook his head. It must be all the pain he was in…it was making him delirious. He shut his eyes firmly, telling himself that all this 'Hermione' business would be gone if he just took a nap.

He woke suddenly. Blinking in the brightness of the room. There was a small rustle of paper as he moved slightly. Looking down there was a neat square of parchment on his bare stomach. He picked it up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, so he could read the elegant script.

_ Draco,_

_For the bruises try: __Cecidit Sanguinem_

_ -HG_

A smile played at the corner of his mouth. She had called him Draco. Maybe Granger wasn't so bad after all…


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Hello my lovelies, I'm sorry it has been so long! I was at a conference all week in the city and had little opportunity to be with my laptop. For all of you following "Finding Normal", fear not. I am currently editing the next chapter and will have it up tomorrow-ish. I hope you are enjoying this, I would love to hear from you all. You make my heart happy!

**Disclaimer:** Alas, I am but a lowly college student, finding her fulfillment writing fanfiction. I do not own Harry Potter, but if one of you happens to be J.K. Rowling, and would like to give me the rights…I would gladly take them!

**Chapter 7:**

The rest of the day passed without incident for Draco. As he suspected, all of the Slytherins were on holiday. However, he didn't really get to enjoy it, as most of his day was spent asleep. Although the outward wounds had been healed, the effects of the unforgivable curse weighed heavy upon him. He felt as if a darkness was wrapped tightly around him. Making every part of him ache in both a physical and emotional sense. By the time dinner rolled around he didn't even bother to go. The idea of food turned his stomach but not nearly as much as walking all the way up to the great hall did. Instead he played himself in chess…and won. The light was fading fast and, without the fire being lit, it was surprisingly cold. Moving only to find his way into his bed, Draco returned to a night of fitful sleep.

By morning, Draco could no longer ignore the persistent, hungry protests of his stomach. It was no longer about the walk. He was merely stiff now. It was more about avoiding HER. She had been kind to him, and for an entire thirty minutes there had been no snide comments or resentful glares. But worse than that, it had actually been enjoyable. He figured he might as well just get it over with. So padding quietly across the floor, he threw on his robe and made his way up.

The doors to the great hall were left slightly ajar, a quiet murmuring of voices and clinking of plates trickling out. Upon entering the room, Draco forced himself not to look in the direction of the Gryffindor table. He sat at the very end of his table watching four third year Hufflepuffs all whisper excitedly. Other than that the only other students in the hall were a few Ravenclaws, a seventh year, three sixth years, and what looked like two first years, and two first year Hufflepuffs. After a few bites into his food, he could not stand it any longer. He slowly lifted his eyes to the Gryffindor table. It was empty, save for a rather lonely looking third year staring into his toast and a fourth year speaking avidly with Dumbledore. She wasn't there. Every student currently at Hogwarts was eating breakfast but her. For the rest of the meal he forced his thoughts on other things. He would not allow himself to be consumed by the know-it-all mudblood. Toward the end he even reduced himself to listing all the ingredients needed in a simple Sleeping Draught.

After breakfast, when she still hadn't appeared, a small amount of worry clawed at his stomach. What she had found out about the cabinet. What if she was contacting Potter right this instant! No, no one knew of the cabinet. Especially not Granger. He had been careful. He was still on edge, and decided to go and check on the cabinet just to be sure. Merlin knows he needed to fix that damned thing. At Christmas, the Dark Lord had been anything but pleased with his level of progress. The problem was that he seemed to be stuck. He couldn't send anything through without it dying. Even the apple had gained spoiled spots. He was doomed.

"Mr. Malfoy, a moment?" Called Dumbledore. He had left the table and was taking short, determined steps in Draco's direction.

"Yes, professor?" Draco said, trying to keep the nerves from leaking into his voice.

"I noticed that you seem to be quite alone, this week. I thought I would suggest some light reading." Draco stood, unsure of how to answer. Luckily, the old wizard continued without prompting. "I have always found Boris Lewinky's books to be especially...informative. I do believe there are a few in the Library. I would suggest you visit them." With a wink from behind his half-moon glasses he turned back toward the group of professors.

I watched him return to his seat, confused by the entire conversation. I sighed, continuing out of the great hall and up the stairs in the general direction of the seventh floor.

* * *

However, along the way I had to pass the library. The wooden doors were slightly ajar, the smell of parchment wafting out to tickle my nose. It couldn't hurt to just check out this Lewinky guy. Really, I was dying to know why Dumbledore had felt the need to insist his reading...what word had he used...informative. Yes, that was it. He had called him informative. If this author was so informative, it might be worth Draco making a quick detour.

The library was empty, as it always was during break. No one in their right mind would spend time among the stacks and stacks of aging parchment when other options were available. Draco weaved his way through the rows, looking for one of the reference books scattered over the study tables. Flipping through the extremely large book, he searched for the "L" section. Lacaef, Lackerman. He continued on. Larebecon, Lastrob...he flipped the page. Lenimpy, Lemins. Running his finger along the faded ink until he, with a smile found it. Lewinky, Boris: Section 429F.87B. A sense of triumph filled him as he memorized the placement before continuing in his search.

Right as he reached section 429F, a rustle of papers from some far off row caught his attention. Perhaps Madam Pince had returned from breakfast. There was only one title by the author of his inquiry. It wasn't an old book. Not like some the library held, where their spines were held on by the barest of strings, and magic the only thing keeping their yellowed pages from crumbling at the slightest touch. No, this book was new. Fifty years old at the latest. The red leather still held a small amount of its shine and the gold lettering of the title was still crisp. "Magical Malfunctions V. 1: A layman's guide to fixing magical furniture." A sound of surprise escaped Draco's lips. It had to be some stroke of dumb luck. Dumbledore couldn't know what he was planning, could he? It was a possibility, albeit a slim one, that the headmaster had somehow known of Draco's task and problems with it. He flipped to the table of contents, finding that chapter five was an answered prayer. "Chapter Five: Magical Cabinetry." He was thrilled. So thrilled, in fact that he nearly walked right past Granger without noticing her. Nearly.

He stopped cold, watching the bushy haired Gryffindor pour over some old scroll of parchment. Her mouth moved silently as she read the words to herself. Draco moved backwards, behind a stack of first year spell books, so that he would remain unseen. It wouldn't really have mattered if he had been standing right next to her, as she was so engrossed in whatever it was she was reading that she took no notice of anything else. So Draco watched, the book clutched tightly to his chest, as she brushed a hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. For some reason, Draco felt enchanted. As if there was no way he could just leave now. He had to continue to watch. She sighed loudly, replacing the scroll and making a note on a piece of parchment. Reaching a shelf to the left of her she pulled down a second book, flipping through the pages quickly. She marked something else on her parchment before closing the book and placing it in her bag. She seemed to be done for the moment, as she tilted her head back against the chair. She moved enough so that Draco could see the neatly written script at the top of her page. She was working on charms homework. Even though he had that class with the Ravenclaws, he was sure the materiel was the same. The essay homework that was due the day classes resumed, was a difficult one. It had taken Draco almost an entire afternoon to finish.

He watched as she rested her head gently on the wooden desk in front of her. He waited, listening as her breathing slowly evened out. After ten minutes or so, Draco felt it safe enough to get a closer look. The parchment was still drying next to the sleeping girl. He looked it over, noting her lack of supporting evidence of her theory. He searched his mind for a title of a book he had once used on the same subject. After only a moment, he remembered and quickly fetched it from a nearby row. He thought about just leaving it there for her to find, but at the last moment got an idea. Tearing an edge of parchment from an old potions essay in his bag, he eased the quill from her tightly grasped hand. He froze when she mumbled sleepily.

_ Hermione,_

_Try this book to corroborate your theory of __inexplicable silence charms._

Leaving the note in the front cover he took one last look at the girl. He noted that, when she wasn't scowling or mouthing off, she wasn't bad to look at. He rather liked the softness of her jaw and the way a tinge of blush remained in her cheeks, even while she slept. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth, as if she knew something he didn't. She probably did know something he didn't. After all, Draco had always been second in their year behind the know-it-all. She always seemed to be one step ahead of him. He smiled down at the girl, taking in the sight of her peaceful form, drinking in as much of her as he could. She seemed so peaceful that he dare not even breathe. However, before he turned and before his better judgment could stop him, he reached out and gently brushed away the hair that had been tickling against her nose. As soon as his mind registered what he had done, he yanked his hand back as if her skin had burned him. He quickly turned back to the entrance, clutching his book to his chest, for fear that his heart had begun to beat too loudly at the feel on her skin beneath his fingers. Sure that sound of its incessant and unruly pleas would wake her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Hello loves! I am sorry this one is so short, but I did feel the need to end it there, but fear not…I promise I will update soon. I love hearing from you, and thank you to every single one of you who has followed and/or favorited this story, it means the world to me that something I have created means something to you! I love you all, even those who don't follow, favorite, or comment. You are special to me too. Also, we have offically past the 10,000 word mark! I wish I could throw a super classy grown up tea party and invite you all!

**Disclaimer:** I attempted to try the AVPS theory of "Red Vines, what the hell can't they do?" But alas, one of the things that they can't do is turn me into JKR. But at least I got a delicious snack!

**Chapter 8:**

Draco found an empty classroom, the door swinging easily open. He remembered this room, the low slants of the windows and the star charts on the ceiling. This was the astronomy classroom. During first year the students were not allowed up on the astronomy tower, so they held classes in this third floor room. He remembered his teacher, a short and very fat wizard whose name Draco had forgotten once he retired. He smiled slightly, sitting at the same table he had occupied five years ago.

Opening the book, he flipped quickly past detailed drawings of child eating chairs and dish washing sinks that broke china until he found chapter five. Leaning forward slightly, he began to read.

**_Magical Cabinetry: _**

_Most magical cabinetry, such as dish drying china cabinets, are rather_

_superfluous in nature, some can be quite handy in a witch or wizards_

_life. Some magical cabinets have the ability to hide objects from even_

_the most proficient summoning spell, or can create food objects out of_

_nothing but air. In this chapter I will discuss some of the common faults._

_**Section One: The Vanishing Cabinet**_

_The most amazing of these cabinets has become almost merely a legend._

_In fact, I have never been able to see one. The Vanishing Cabinets, which_

_can transport objects or living people between them (almost like a portkey)_

_have slowly turned into something of a fairy tale for magic furniture experts._

_The company that created these magical mysteries only made two hundred_

_Of them. Since then, most have been destroyed or lost to the cracks of time._

_However, before their disappearance these cabinets played pivotal roles in the_

_Greatest stories in all of history. Secret notes passed through wars, and even_

_An escaped felon hiding in one for months. Moving from one cabinet to the_

_ Next. _

_ The disadvantage to these cabinets were their temperamental attitudes. _

_Often enough, it is documented that, they will cease to transport simply due_

_To the link "becoming dusty." For example. If a cabinet lies in Scotland in a_

_Muggle bookstore, and another in Surrey with a wizarding family. The link_

_Might not work because the Scottish link has been out of use for too long._

_To fix this problem, a number of spells can be tried. One might simply try_

_To revive the magic through a series of _iterum respirare _spells that may_

_Work. I can only supply conjecture on this subject, however, as one such_

_Malfunctioning cabinet has never crossed my path. However, that brings_

_Me to another one of the many cabinets that I have indeed worked on,_

_**Section Two: The Hanging Cabinet**_

_This cabinet, normally taking the form of a bureau, is notoriously known_

_For murdering those who enter. Except that is, for those who cast an…_

Draco stopped reading, his hands shaking to the point that the words began to blur in front of his eyes. He didn't know how to respond. Dumbledore had given him a tiny glimmer of hope. Not much, but some. Now he just had to figure out what _iterum respiare _spells were. His immediately thought was to return to the library, but the thought of Granger forced him to stop. No. He didn't want to risk running into her again. For some reason, he had reacted in a disgraceful manner for a Malfoy. He must remove the tendril of friendship or affection or whatever damned emotion the sleeping Granger had planted in him. And he must do it before he saw her again.

Leaning his head against the yellowing pages, Draco waited. Waited for his Malfoy instincts to kick in. For him to feel the hate that bubbled up through his stomach, searing the revulsion of mudbloods through his veins. The hate that told him to kill. That justified the murders and chastened his weakness. But for once it did not come. Only a dark purposelessness that left tears at the corner of his eyes. He couldn't handle this. Any of this. Especially now that Hermione had somehow changed toward him. Or perhaps she had always been that way, but he had never noticed. For one moment he hated her again. But not for the impurity of her blood, nor for the knowledge that seemed to always spout out of her mouth, but for the way she had been kind. Because that's what she'd been, and he had never experienced that. Never felt kindness from someone who wasn't intent on getting something from him. For one moment the revulsion seared hot again, but then it was gone. The ashes settling in his brain, revealing a single thought left. One tiny question the whispered upon itself like a never ending loop. What if—all this time—he'd been wrong?


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Hello dears! So just to warn you, I know I've been focusing on Draco but I do switch to Hermione for the second half of this chapter. If you don't like it (or do like it) let me know in the comments and I will make sure to not (or continue) to do it in future chappies!

**Disclaimer:** Can I get my birthday wish early and become JKR? No? Okay, fine. She still owns Harry Potter.

**Chapter 9:**

Christmas holiday ended with one final breath of snow. It fluttered down around the astronomy tower like ash from a distant volcano. The students would be arriving soon, marching through the entrance hall, all wearing their new Christmas jumpers and mittens. They would talk in too loud voices as they moved through the familiar halls, both happy and disappointed to be back. Draco closed his eyes, the cold seeping through his body. He had spent most of the last week in the tower. No one would come up here during holiday. Not even Granger. The thought of the Gryffindor hit him like a bludger, taking his breath away. Ever since that day in the library he had done everything within his power to stop from seeing her. He spent his days in the room of requirement or in the astronomy tower, only daring to do research in the library long past curfew. He even went as far as skipping the prefect's meeting and making the trek down to the kitchens for all his meals. It made him sick that he was putting so much effort into avoiding her, but it really had to be done. After all, everything was beginning to crumble. For so long he had stood on one side of the war, never feeling guilt over it. Now, it seemed, that things were changing. Now he lay somewhere in the space between 'dark' and 'light', or perhaps somewhere else entirely.

Draco sighed, not wanting to think anymore. He had done far too much thinking. Every waking second was filled with thoughts. And at night, inky nightmares wrapped fingers around his throat. Through every second of doubt, he reminded himself that he had made a decision. He was a Malfoy. And if Malfoy's knew one thing, it was their damned place in this word. He would complete his tasks. It was his duty. And if the mudblood died in the process—then so be it. Even thinking it, made his mind recoil. He prided himself on always repaying debts, and yet he was going to let the girl die. Hell, he was going to let the death eaters into the castle so that they could kill her. Wouldn't that be like killing her himself? He sighed, it was so easy to talk himself out of it. To convince himself that Dumbledore would solve the problems, and that he could stay in the protective shadow of Hogwarts until the threat of the Dark Lord had vanished. But that's not how life worked. Especially not for him, the dark mark on his forearm seemed to prickle in agreement. So he would stick with his resolve, even if it damned him to whatever hell there might be.

* * *

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room—her head resting in her tired hands. Harry and Ron would be arriving back any minute. She was sure of it. And with them opening the porthole, all of her troubles would start anew. She wanted to cry, thinking that this second term would be no better than the first, but she was stronger than that. Wasn't she? Sometimes she wasn't sure. Like the days when Ron would stumble happily into breakfast, his previous activities displayed on his neck. Even the thought of it made her stomach clench and tears to form at the corners of her eyes. For six years she had been there for Ron, and at times it felt as if they were on the brink of something more. As if all one of them had to do was jump and the other would tumble over with them into whatever future they might have. But now he had gone and done this! He had picked some girl over her, and was now rubbing it in her face. But the worst of it was that she could do nothing to stop it. Taking Cormac to the Slug Club hadn't even worked to make Ron jealous. She felt hopeless.

And then there was Malfoy! Harry was convinced that Malfoy had become a deatheater. That he was a real threat to the school. But Hermione was still doubtful. From what she had seen of Malfoy, he was still the same prejudiced coward that he was last year. Well, at least she had thought so up until the day the train left Hogwarts. The hallow sadness that lingered in his eyes upon viewing his father had effected Hermione. She realized that perhaps he had just been caught in the crosshairs this entire time. Of course, he was still a shallow, good for nothing ferret. But now, especially after the incident at the beginning of the week, she felt as if there was hope to get him on Dumbledore's side.

The distant sound of footsteps echoing through the halls, snapped Hermione's attention back to the present. Loud voices grew ever louder as all the Gryffindors made their way closer to her, bringing along a sense of dread. She wanted to escape, wanted a few more minutes to herself. Just a few more minutes where Lavender wasn't hanging off of Ron like a scarf. Just a few more minutes where Harry's dread did not become her own. Panic swelled in her like a storm. She, without thinking, rushed from the porthole and down a corridor before the crowd would be within eyesight. She knew Harry would go searching for her—partially out of guilt for spending his entire Christmas with Ron and partially because he wouldn't want to be in the common room with Ginny. He still was unaware of the extent of his own feelings. If she went to the library he would find her, and for some reason she just didn't want to be found. She wanted to be able to come to strengthen herself enough to face what was coming. So she went to the only totally unoccupied place that she thought Harry would not think of. Of course, he could check the map, but she guessed he would not think of it.

By the time she reached the top of the astronomy tower, she was slightly out of breath. She did not notice the discarded robe and tie on one of the benches. In fact, she didn't even notice the blonde boy staring up at the stars, until she was only a few feet behind him. The air was bitterly cold, and his shoulders shivered against the breeze that blew snow in billows off the roof.

"Malfoy?" She asked in disbelief. He froze, his breathing seemed to even cease. He turned slowly toward her, shock knocking any snide comment from him.

"Granger," was all he managed to whisper. It sounded closer to a sigh of defeat than annoyance.

"What are you doing up here?" She said, stepping toward him. "It's freezing." She had not realized how cold it would actually be. The snow had ended but the wind remained, blowing straight through her.

"I could ask you the same question." He said sharply. His blonde hair had been tousled by the wind, so that for the first time it did not lay perfectly against his head. She jutted out her chin in defiance.

"I came up here for a little peace and quiet. The students are back." She said, telling the truth.

"I know." Was his only response. They stood in silence, his eyes seeming to hide some sort of battle. Eventually Hermione turned away, looking out over the grounds, in hopes that he would leave. Instead, after what seemed like an eternity of freezing he finally spoke.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note:** Hello dears! How I've missed you. These past weeks have been hell for me. Literally every terrible social situation that could happen did and it cumulated with the ending of the friendship between me and some of my closest friends…so fun! (Yay adulthood!) Happy Pesach, for those who celebrate it. I know this is a short chapter but I felt like I needed to end it where I did, but I will update soon. I love you all, thank you to all who will review and follow.

**Disclaimer:** I may own a box of chocolate covered matzah (actually a really bad decision to buy) but I don't own Harry Potter.

**Chapter 10:**

Draco didn't know what he was doing. Well he did know. He knew perfectly well what he was doing, he just wasn't sure why he was doing it in the first place! He should have just turned around. He should have left the tower and ignored the withering girl in front of him. She looked so defeated. He could only imagine it was the blood traitor and Potter that were causing this. Briefly, pity for Granger welled up inside of him. She had nothing if those two left her. Before his common sense could jump in and remind him of his duty, he spoke.

"Weasley's a complete arse, if you ask me." The corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly,

"We all know your opinion of him Malfoy. But if that was an attempt to console me, thanks." He nodded sharply. She turned back to the balcony. A small sigh escaping her pursed lips. There was a small tugging sensation in Draco's stomach. It seemed to pull him towards her. Begging him to reach a hand out and brush the edge of her blushing cheek. But he had some restraint. She turned back to him, suddenly.

"They love me, you know." She said quickly. "Really, they do. It's just been a difficult year for Ron and I and I'm trying not to make Harry pick sides." Draco raised an eyebrow.

"No need to explain your relationships to me, Granger. I couldn't care less." She laughed sharply, high pitched and slightly nerve-wracking.

"Please!" She nearly yelled. Draco, cowardly took a step back, startled by her sudden ferocity. "You care so much about Harry and Ron. You watch and evaluate everything they do. Honestly, if I didn't have some tiny faith in your minuscule sense of morality, I would swear that you were a deatheater!" She was angry, her face splotched red. Draco, on the other hand, was a torrent of emotions. A large part of him panicked from her accusation, while another part of him wondered at the source of her anger. However, the most surprising, and worrisome emotion he felt was joy. It danced inside his chest, a tiny candle flame. She had said that she believed he had morality. Most days he didn't even believe that of himself. Yet here was this girl, standing before him, who had every right to hate him—and she was saying that he had morals. Hope sprung like spring flowers pushing through soft earth. He smiled, only for a tiny second, but she caught it. Her eyes widening and some of her anger faltering at his strange reaction. Composing himself quickly, he frowned at her.

"Do you really think," He said, spitting each word at her like venom "That I give one damned thought to the blood traitor or Potter? Do you really think that I give one damned thought to you?" He spun around then, shame coursing through him instead of the anger he had displayed. She was crestfallen that much was clear. But there was more than that. He had the perfect chance. He could have made a friend to this girl that, for some unknown reason, was being kind to him. Instead he had been cruel. He roughly picked up his cast aside belongings heading around the corner out of sight.

He watched her then, from the safety of his vantage point. As her frown deepened. She looked so small there, against the grey sky. She looked so alone. Just like him. His guilt doubled as he watched her. And for one tiny moment he allowed the thoughts that he had barred from his mind to run free. A daydream of forgetting his Dark Mark, of befriending Granger. A daydream of getting the life that he was so jealous of in others, that maybe he could…that they could…become something more…Shaking his head, he chastised himself for his silliness. Turning to leave he muttered a quiet heating spell over Granger, leaving her to her thoughts now that he was sure that she was warm enough.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Hello my dears! I have missed you. Well things are getting crazy in my life, but don't worry I will keep updating when I can. Let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I own an an entire box of friendship making string from summer camp days but I don't own Harry Potter.**

Chapter 11:

Hermione's head was aching. It had been aching since the beginning of the morning and it continued to ache in such a way that made the incisive smacking of Ron's chewing intolerable. She was not hungry for breakfast, but she forced herself to eat a few bites of toast, hoping it would wake her up a bit.

"What is wrong with you Hermione?" Ron asked, between mouthfuls. Hermione shook her head,

"Just tired. I didn't sleep well." She said, Ron—satisfied—returned to his meal. To say that she hadn't slept well seemed like a major understatement. For the past four or five days she had begun to have nightmares. She guessed it was just the stress of the day reaching into her dreams. Sometimes they were lifelike—fights with Voldemort or the death of her parents. Other times they were far more inconsequential things that caused her to wake up with tears on her cheeks. For example, two nights ago she had been forced to watch as Harry and Ron decided that Lavender would make a better member of the trio. She really didn't have to worry about this, as Harry disliked the girl almost as much as she did, but all the same she woke trembling.

She was sure that if Harry had not been so distracted by the pressing issues at hand, that he would have noticed her obvious deterioration over the past days. Ron, especially with his break up with Lavender a few days before, was not one to notice detail. In fact, he hadn't even said anything when she fell asleep in DADA. Luckily, it had only been for a moment, and she had gotten a painful cramp in her leg that had woken her before Snape had noticed. She pulled out her charms essay, which was due the next day, but before she could begin to work Harry spoke.

"I know that Malfoy is up to something." He muttered to her. She glanced at Harry who was steadily staring at the Slytherin table. Hermione followed his gaze, searching for the blonde hair that was not there. For the past few days she had seen Malfoy only briefly and even then he hadn't even bothered to look at her. Ever since their interaction on the tower, he hadn't spoken to them. She had cried that day. Cried silent tears for some unknown reason. She later convinced herself that it was because he had been cruel to her when she had tried to be kind. But deep down she knew it was more than that. She felt that if she could get the good and kind Malfoy—which she believed had to be buried somewhere inside him—to be on their side that there was hope for the oncoming war.

"I think I might follow him today during his free period. I have the map so I'll know where he is, but I want to see. To make sure." Harry said quietly. Hermione did some quick calculations in her head,

"You can't Harry! For one thing, his free period is during our potions lesson. You can't miss that again or Slughorn will be so upset. And, on the off chance that Malfoy is dangerous—which I really doubt—you of all people shouldn't be following him into any abandoned corridors." Harry, for once, seemed to see the logic in her argument. Really, she figured, that he didn't want to miss using that damned potions book of his.

"What if Ron goes?" Harry suggested, looking to the read head who was currently quite occupied with glaring at the back of Lavender's head. Hermione grimaced.

"You know how Ron feels about Malfoy. What if he hurts him." Harry smirked,

"Then I would be quite happy." Hermione frowned in disapproval.

"I'll do it." She said, shocking both Harry and herself. "I've already done the homework, and I've had a headache anyway. I'll just watch the map and if he goes anywhere near the room of requirement, I'll follow." Harry, after a moment of deliberation, nodded his assent.

"Alright, as long as you're careful." The plates all disappeared, a sign that it was time for their first class.

"Here." Harry said, pulling the map from his bag and slipping it into Hermione's. Harry then snapped his fingers to get Ron's attention. "Oi, if you don't stop staring at her we're going to miss Herbology." Ron cheeks pinked slightly, but Hermione began the trek to the greenhouses before she could hear his reply. Walking out of the castle, she stumbled straight into Draco Malfoy himself.

"Watch it, Granger." He said roughly, stumbling backwards. Hermione noted that there was a letter clutched in his palm.

"Sorry." She said, the ferocity of his glare disarming her. He shook his head in disdain, before looking into her eyes for a moment. Searching. For one moment they both stood, wrapped in two completely different worlds, staring at each other. It was then that she realized that, in trying not to fall backwards he had grabbed her arm. His hand, cold from the January air, felt heavy through her robes. He had not yet removed it. A group of second years walked past, on their way to Care of Magical Creatures, loudly laughing over some unheard joke. The spell of the moment of broken and Draco yanked back his hand. He stalked away, inside the castle, leaving Hermione standing in the frost. Alone.

Hermione had been completely incapable of paying attention in any of her morning classes. In fact, she nearly set her book on fire during charms and managed to create a chair/lion hybrid in transfiguration.

"What is wrong with you, Hermione?" Harry demanded as they transfiguration.

"Sorry, I'm just preoccupied…you know…" Hermione said lamely. "Anyway, you should get going before you're late for potions.

"Okay, but if you're so preoccupied, maybe I should watch—"

"Harry." Hermione said, forcefully. "I'm fine. Go." Harry was hesitant, but eventually joined the flow of students.

Excitement bubbled in Hermione, along with a healthy dose of guilt, as the halls emptied of students. Hermione found a hidden passageway that any patrolling prefect wouldn't check, and settled in for an hour of waiting. It looked as if Malfoy were asleep in his dorm on the couch. The same couch that he had laid, tortured and exhausted, when she cared for him And suddenly she felt a nostalgic warmth radiating through her. However, she crushed it quickly with the memory of how he had spoken to her on the tower. Of the hate that had burned behind his eyes. Those eyes. He was so very good at hiding emotion. A master illusionist. But every now and then she would see a flash or real anger or fear, or sometimes an emotion that she couldn't place…almost softness. She looked back down at the map only to find that Malfoy was now in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He had moved quickly.

Adrenaline pumped through her, the only reason anyone used Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was if they were doing something against the rules. Picking her bag from the floor, she rushed down the hall and up a flight of stairs. Her eyes were glued to the map, hoping that if she was caught out of class she could blame it on prefect duties. Reaching the door, her burst of confidence left her. What would she find inside? She had a feeling of foreboding that made her want to run and get Harry. But she wasn't a pansy. She was Hermione Granger, and if needed, she could take Draco Malfoy in a fight.

Pushing the door open, wand gripped in her hand, she took one quiet step inside. Instead of some dark magic that she was expecting to see, there was something completely different. Draco—sleeves rolled up and tie loosened—leaning against the sink. Heart shattering sobs shaking his body, and a dark mark clearly evident on his arm.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Happy belated mother's day my darlings! I am sorry this chapter is itty bitty tiny, but I promise that I will have the next one up in a day or two (It will be from Draco's perspective and might involve a gigantic leap in their relationship...in case you are wondering). Anywho, I love you all so very much and I am so blessed that you happen to be enjoying this little thing that I am creating. As always, if you want to review I read every single one of them (sometimes more than once) and they do mean the world to me.**  
**

**Disclaimer: **If I was the queen JRK I probably wouldn't line my walls with HP fanart...that would be at tad too egotistical for me. But since I have lined my walls (and bookcase AND phone background AND pintrest boards) with Harry Potter fanart, it is safe to say that I am not JRK and I don't own HP.

**Chapter 12:**

For what seemed like an eternity Hermione just stood still, halfway inside the room and halfway out. Hermione was too terrified to say anything or do anything so she just stood. Watching this pillar of hatred wither like grass before her. Moaning Myrtle was distressed too, peaking over the edge of the toilet stall.

"Don't" She said almost desperately, a mother begging her baby to stop crying. "Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…" She trailed off when Draco turned to glare at her. It wasn't a very effective glare, as he was still crying. But all the same Myrtle ducked back into the U bend. Draco turned back to the sink, laying his head against the mirror.

"No one can help me," he whispered. Hermione's heart seemed to brake a little as his frame was once again rocked by a sob. "I can't do it…I can't…It won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…." The last few words were barely spoken. Hermione could hardly hear them. Terror still crashed within her, but it was no mixed with a new fear. A fear for the boy in front of her. The same fear for him that had welled up on the train. And it was a strange feeling. To experience fear for him and not of him. She looked up and saw his cold eyes staring at her in the mirror. She wanted to run. He had seen her. But her legs had become unresponsive, they refused to move and when they finally did obey it was to take a step further into the bathroom instead of away. She heard the door click shut beside her.

"Granger." He said, making it almost sound like a curse word. Hermione felt her hand trembling. "What the hell are you doing here?" He yelled, so loud that Hermione was sure someone would come running in. No one did. He turned to face her, trying to look as menacing as possible. Instead, however, he only seemed smaller. As if with every breath he was shrinking. Hermione, in a moment of bravery that would later surprise her, took another step forward. His eyes watched her reflection as she made her advance.

"Malfoy…"She said quietly, trying to find words. None came. He turned to face her, then, his eyes following hers to his forearm, where the evidence of his enslavement lay tattooed, dark and threatening. Malfoy drew his wand, walking toward her steadily. She retreated with each step he took, but all to soon her back was against the wall—the cold seeping through her robes—and Malfoy was still drawing closer.

When his wand rested against the base of her neck, his face too close to hers, he spoke.

"You will not tell anyone what you saw, or I swear to Merlin that I will cause you more pain than you can ever imagine." She resisted the urge to nod hurriedly like a frightened first year. Instead she held her ground and held his eyes. She did notice, however, that even in his anger he did not threaten to kill her. "I am going to move and then you are going to walk out of the bathroom and pretend the only reason you were in was for a nice chat with Myrtle. Got it?" This time, Hermione nodded. Ashamed at her own cowardice of the boy. However, every time she tried to work up any nerve the tattoo on his forearm seemed to glint in the pale light of the bathroom. A constant reminder of the path he was on. "Good." Malfoy said, pushing off the wall and going to the door of the bathroom. Before he pulled it open, Hermione managed to speak. Her voice seemed excessively loud in the empty bathroom.

"I was wrong about you Malfoy. I took you for a victim of circumstance, but I won't make that mistake again." His back was still to her, but she knew her words had affected him as his back stiffened. For a moment, she thought he was going to speak, but he just pushed open the door and walked out into the empty hallway. Leaving Hermione standing in the empty bathroom, knees quaking, and Myrtle peering over the door of the stall.


End file.
